Embedded
by MeridianPine
Summary: In Texas in 1987, strange, almost bizarre occurrences surround two young people. One young orphan meets a Stand-using nurse after having an encounter with a certain arrow that was stolen from Egypt.
1. Endings

Welcome to Embedded, my newest fanfic and fresh muse fodder.

Embedded: A Tale of Weakness

An older man stood over a lab table, his face flush with nervousness.

He worked for the Speedwagon Foundation in the Archives Department over in America, though he was in Egypt now.

He was nervous because of what he was examining.

Part of a metal arrowhead. Detached from its shaft, it had been found several miles from the mobile base he was in as of right now.

The dust and sand filtered from the air outside, he could finally breathe.

The old Nissan van looked normal on the outside aside from the sand tires it had on, along with raised suspension.

The scientist finished bagging the specimen.

He was wearing many layers of protective clothing. If this thing cut him, it could be disastrous.

At least that's what the higher-ups had told him.

He was so done with this job. They'd had him futilely tracking fragments of these arrows across the world for almost a year.

This was the most complete arrowhead he'd ever come across. All of the others had only been a few millimeters in size. Some of them had been dull, and unable to cut unless sharpened.

"This one could be dangerous, though. For sure," he said, sealing the packaged arrowhead in a fireproof safe behind the driver's seat.

They never heard them coming.

Bandits.

There was gunfire, then the splattering of blood.

Death.

The life of a prominent scientist, as well as a father of two, annihilated in seconds.

Men stormed the van.

The sound of a safe being cracked open echoed throughout the desert.

A young man smirks, before tucking the arrowhead into his own pocket. His red hair and freckles are indicative of a foreigner. Clearly the leader of this operation, he turned to them. Speaking to them in twangy American English, he smirked; "All of the hired guns are dismissed. I have what I want. Your payment will arrive in the mail."

The moon is a waxing crescent, and our journey has only started.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Two years later, and the young man that stole the arrowhead is on the run from police in his hometown. All of his possessions have been packed up in two suitcases on top of his car.

Ramming his car through a back alley, a fence-post catches on one of the suitcases.

Only being held on lightly, the band holding the suitcases on fails as a cop car pulls into the alley at full speed.

" _ **Oh shit!"**_ Eamonn swore, while flooring the gas pedal.

He left his suitcases behind.

Something sharp juts out of the bottom of one of them.

The arrowhead.

The moon is once again a waxing crescent.

A light turns on across the alley, as a young man wakes up to the fading sounds of a police car.

He barely manages to shove his prosthetic leg on.

He stumbles to his bathroom inside his mother's apartment.

He looks at the clock above the toilet.

It reads 4:32 AM.

"Well damn. I guess I might as well stay awake," he mumbles.

He is 17 year old Brandon Carmichael, born in the year 1970 to mother Maria and father John.

Proud owner of one leg and eight fingers, as a result of a car accident that happened when he was four. The metal shrapnel from the gas explosion took off the ring and pinky fingers on his right hand.

As well as a sizeable portion of his right leg.

But the damage was below the knee entirely so his life is relatively normal.

Aside from his dead father, who died in the same accident.

Dawn was quickly approaching. Baltimore was slowly waking up, the night owls were finally going to bed.

Brandon started the coffee pot, and as he sat in his armchair in the corner by the plate-glass window there was a loud banging at the door.

Brandon sighed. Being a white family in a gang-affiliated area had its vices.

"STOP YOUR BANGING! **I'll be over in a second."** Brandon shouted in the direction of the door.

There was a slight pause in the banging, a click, and then there was a gunshot through the door.

Brandon whipped his head around from the table, where he'd hurriedly been gathering up the protection money.

He ran over to the door. Opening it, he yelled at the two young people on the other side of the doorway.

"What the fuck! I was just getting your money together!" He said, poking his finger into the man's chest.

The two of them quickly showed how little they cared when they grabbed him and threw him down the stairs.

He was then dragged outside to the back alley.

In the dark, he was flung at the ground.

Brandon saw stars and a flash of white light crossed his vision as he fell onto something.

He felt a sudden pain pierce his back.

And then he passed out, as he was nearly beaten to death.

His mother found him, bloody and bruised, the next morning.

Calling an ambulance, she could never have seen the faint glow around her son's right arm.

After all, she didn't have a Stand.

But it seemed like her son did.

His stay in the hospital was to be brief. Aside from his blatant problems with anorexia, he was mostly fine.

They had shaken him up well and good, but he was to be just fine.

The nurse took down a report about a peculiar object that had been removed from his back during the ambulance ride.

A rusty silver arrowhead.

Speedwagon Protocol #459 was automatically put into action. Multiple phone calls were made, and within five minutes, an alert was out to all American Speedwagon personnel.

Its message?

" _Retrieve the arrowhead. If left to the hands of the public it could cause a catastrophe."_

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Brandon woke to a slight pain in his right hand. It was like pins and needles, but worse. It felt hot.

His hand was emanating heat.

His hospital room was noticeably warmer than what was comfortable.

Brandon was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. The BSN assigned to his case by the Speedwagon Foundation was making sure he was as comfortable as the situation would allow.

As he awoke, the first thing he saw was shimmering.

And a nurse taking a phone call, her back to him.

Her hair was black, and she seemed rather tall.

She seemed worried, by her tone of voice.

"What am I going to tell him? I can't both keep him comfortable and tell him the truth!" The nurse, whose name was still unknown to Brandon, exclaimed in response to some unknown conversation.

" _Put me on speakerphone, woman. That is, assuming he's conscious by now."_

And that was exactly what _Nurse Davis_ did, as Brandon could see her nametag now.

"He is."

*bloop*

"Hello. Is it on?" The unknown man spoke out, loud and clear.

"Yes sir. It is," Nurse Davis responded.

Now that Brandon got a good look at her, she was stunning in her own way.

Too old for him, of course. He was really too tired to examine her more closely, but she was clearly deep into her twenties.

She looked right into his eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Carmichael. I'm afraid I had to lower your IV painkillers to wake you. Please bear the pain for me. Me and my colleague," she said gesturing to the phone mounted to the wall, "will be asking you some questions. Can you do that for me?"

Brandon suddenly felt his pain pick up.

As the pinpricks escalated in intensity, the room started heating up slightly.

"Yeah, but what's with this heat? Open a window," Brandon said, gesturing at the window, which had its tan curtains drawn.

" **I'm afraid that we can't do that, for security reasons. No one can know about your… condition. Also, hello. I am the temporary head of the Speedwagon Foundation. I cannot disclose my actual name. Also for security reasons, as I'm sure you understand."**

The temporary head was forthright.

" **We don't have much time for this. We cannot keep you here. We're sending you back home as soon as possible. Nurse Davis here has a glove for you to wear over your right hand. You are to keep it on in all circumstances. It should, with a bit of luck, keep your little heat problem under cont-"**

"Hey can I talk now?"

Brandon blurted out, cutting him off. The nerves in his arm were shrieking at him.

There was a brief pause, and a sigh.

" **...fine. Go ahead. I'm sure you're confused enough,"** the man said, allowing the young man to speak.

"What is wrong with me?" Brandon managed to get out, drawing out his words awkwardly.

There was silence on the head's end of the phone. Nurse Davis said nothing, opting to instead adjust her blouse, which was becoming dotted with damp blotches of sweat.

The shimmering around his hand and arm increased. The nervous air in the room was becoming more strained by the second as the temperature slowly increased.

" **...You're developing a supernatural power which is powered by your soul itself. We don't have a technical name for it, but it does have a functional one. You are developing what we at the Speedwagon Foundation like to call…"**

You could hear a pin drop in the room in the small silence between his words.

" **...a Stand."**

That was the last thing Brandon heard before he blacked out.

He felt only one thing before he blacked out. Not the pain in his hand.

Not the oppressive heat.

Not the sweat covering his exhausted body.

It was his heart breaking. Something was wrong. The sound of a gunshot echoed through his head.

At 7:12 PM on a Sunday, Brandon's mother died.

She was shot for not paying the week's protection money to the local gangsters. The same ones that she suspected beat her son.

She refused to give them the money.

One slammed her into the wall, as the other steadied themselves.

As she looked up, all she could focus on was the gun barrel she was staring into.

When Brandon came to the next morning, there was an odd man sitting at his bedside. Two of them, in fact. But the one he noticed first had a much more demanding presence.

They noticed him wake up.

"Well then, young man. I'm afraid we meet in terrible circumstances. Normally, I would take a while to introduce myself and my colleagues, but seeing as I am to be on the other side of the world shortly, I will be upfront."

There was a pause as the man's eyes glinted in the morning light. His grey hair seemed to glow with the sunlight filtering in from the window, whose curtains were now parted.

"I am Joseph Joestar. And I am the temporary head of the Speedwagon Foundation, though I'd rather they'd picked someone else. I have to say, _the news I have for you isn't good."_

The tone of the conversation shifted.

The air seemed to grow thicker, and the shadows on Mr. Joestar's face now seemed ominous to Brandon.

After looking back to his colleague, with the other man nodding back at him, he shivered before blurting out:

"Your mother is dead."

At that very moment, as the first reactionary thoughts formed in Brandon's head, Nurse Davis entered the room.

She was the first to notice Brandon's tears forming, as the two men had the grace to look away, both of them being incredibly uncomfortable.

Nurse Davis froze in place.

"You two just told him, didn't you?"

The tears stayed where they were, as Brandon's mind desperately tried to internalize his anguish.

" _Men aren't weak. Keep it together."_

Then, he spoke to no one in particular.

"Oh. Wow. Um, I…"

He zoned out.

Darkness enveloped his vision.

The span of several heartbeats passed before he felt another heart near his own.

Nurse Davis was holding him.

He didn't know that; in fact, his mind was just about shutting down.

All that he knew, as he fell deeper into the grip of anguish, was that someone, anyone, was there.

Their presence was almost… comforting. Loving.

And then he knew nothing.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

He felt…light. It was odd.

Wherever he was, it smelled like home.

Home.

Brandon's eyes opened, and believe it or not, he _was_ home.

It was warmer than usual and the lights were mostly out, but he was home for sure.

He looked around. His heart jumped at the sight of someone walking down the hallway. And it definitely wasn't his mother. His mother wasn't that thin.

"W-Who's there?!" He shouted, attempting to stand up fluidly; but he overshot his approach and fell over.

Her footsteps quickly moved into the room.

"Oh damn it," he said, the woman now standing right in front of him.

He looked up.

And then her face came into focus, in the light of the lamp.

Nurse Davis, in more casual attire. Pajamas, to be specific.

"Calm down, Brandon. Let me help you up," she almost breathed out, very quietly.

He let her brace the underside of his shoulder to get him up.

She moved him the five or so feet back to the couch.

As she laid him back down, he asked the one relevant question.

"What are you doing here?"

She adjusted his pillow to be more centered under his head before stretching in a rather feline way and responding.

"The Speedwagon Foundation has released you into my care in the absence of a proper parental guardian. You would normally be under the care of the state, but taking care of you for Mr. Joestar isn't so bad. It's not like I'm not being paid for this." Her eyes were dark, he noticed for the first time. She grimaced, anticipating his next question.

"So. She's...really gone." Brandon breathed out, staring off into the darkness.

The light suddenly glinted off her eyes explosively.

Brown light covered the room.

"Yes. And I need to emphasize this point. She's not coming back. And you are in enough danger that the Speedwagon Foundation enlisted me to protect you while you're vulnerable," she spoke in a broad, intense voice.

Chills went down Brandon's spine as the light pouring from her eyes shaped itself into a pair of large, translucent big cats that encircled her tall frame.

"This is my Stand. _Brown Cat,"_ she remarked, her mouth crookedly smiling.

Both of the vicious looking animals growled low.

"Of course, they won't hurt you. They are entirely under my control. What isn't under control is your developing, newborn stand. It doesn't know what it wants to be, and it's like you in that way. You don't know what you want to do with your life. At all. Not that I blame you," she quickly backtracked, her Stand disappearing, "You are a teenager, after all."

Brandon's mind was full of questions. But the one most prominent about the state of his life quickly appeared at the forefront of his mind.

"What is going to change?" he said, rubbing his head, with its close-cropped blonde hair. He was crying, the grief coming out of nowhere.

"Plenty. But...you still have to go to school. So get to sleep, and I'll make breakfast in the morning." Her eyes were sympathetic.

He was surprised when she drew in close, wrapping her arms around him lightly.

She kissed his forehead.

"Rest. Please. For me."

She was clearly tired, too. If he had looked more closely, he would have seen the dark circles under her eyes.

And so he laid back.

Brandon Carmichael closed his eyes.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

He woke up to the smell of bacon.

He heard it crackle and sizzle, too.

A welcome sound to his ears.

The room around him was dark, but there was a light on in the adjacent kitchen.

There was a glove on the end table.

Without even thinking, he put it on as he got up, sore as could be.

"Damn… my shoulders ache like something else, for sure."

The house was getting noticeably cooler by the second.

Nurse Davis stuck her head around the corner at the perfect time, getting a look at Brandon's eyes in the lowlights.

They were blue, like her father's had been.

Plain, but familiar. She felt surprisingly at home and at ease.

"Well good morning. It might be a little early for you, but this is when you get up now."

He looked at the clock on the stove. It was 5:30.

"You," he said between yawns, "certainly rise early, Nurse Davis."

She flinched. Gritting her teeth slightly, she turned away from the food.

"Please. My name is Sonya. Not Nurse." She seemed annoyed.

" _Not gonna poke that tiger."_ Brandon thought.

"Okay, Nur-Sonya. Sonya."

She turned back to the food with a wry smile hidden on her face.

"Much better. Now take a seat at the table, and I will explain to you what exactly a Stand is. And why you having one is such a potential problem."

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Brandon understood more about Stands than he would have ever liked to. His head hurt. But at least his stomach was full, and Ms. Davis was happy.

Ms. Davis was quite knowledgeable, as she had been the subject of several studies studying Stands.

And then as soon as the conversation changed topics, she was suddenly much more quiet.

She seemed almost awkward.

She spoke abruptly.

"Go to your room and get ready for school. I'll get dressed in the bathroom. So please, go now before I get in there."

She took care of their mutual dishes, gently putting them into the dishwasher.

It rumbled quietly as she walked towards the guest room, where she was staying.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

He was in her car, as they sat outside his school.

He was about to get out.

The car had great A/C. But that did little to help the tense atmosphere.

They both wanted to say something. But neither of them knew if it would be weird.

Actually, both of them knew it would be weird.

So they said nothing.

But Sonya did reach out. She held his un-gloved hand for a moment, and squeezed it.

He left.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

She really had nothing to do during the day, so she practiced her Hamon breathing that she'd learned from Mr. Joestar, along with some more advanced meditation techniques.

Her Stand seemed more playful than usual after she opened up her chakras.

She smirked to herself. " _What a good use of my time."_

 _aaaaaaAaaaaaa_

" _What a shitty use of my time,"_ Brandon thought.

He was in the locker room before his gym class. To be fair to Brandon, he wasn't too small of a guy. He was about 150 pounds and maybe 5'8 with shoes on.

A little underweight. But he was constantly trying.

He closed his locker after he finished changing, making sure to keep the glove on.

And before he could think, he was flat on his back.

" _Fuck. Derek."_

"What's wrong, Carmichael? You're less _energetic_ than usual. You know that I like trying _a little._ I'd hate to hurt you worse than normal because you didn't put up a fight."

"Give me a break, Derek," Brandon said, getting up and dusting himself off, "my mom literally just died."

Derek flinched a little. But only a little.

"Sorry to hear that. But life will go on. And I will continue to beat your ass as usual until you learn some respect."

His words echoed throughout the locker room.

Everyone heard them, but no one acknowledged them.

No one messed with Derek, unless they were real hard-asses.

Brandon sighed, and rubbed the back of his head with his gloved hand.

Derek saw his hand and raised an eyebrow;

"What's up with the glove?"

"I don't really know to be honest. Some science shit that neither of us would understand."

Derek's eyebrow went back down. Unamused.

That explanation clearly wasn't good enough.

"Give me the glove, if it's so important." His glare was unwavering.

"Um. I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to. Mr. Joestar said that I could really hurt someone if I took it off." Brandon said, just sheepish enough to satisfy Derek.

He actually laughed outright.

"Yeah right. You, hurting someone? You're about as dangerous as my mom's cocker spaniel."

Derek said, leaning forward.

"Yeah, right, it's totally crazy, right?" Brandon said, shrinking further into himself.

Derek was preparing to beat Brandon up, cracking his knuckles, the whole nine yards.

" _ **Time for class. Get moving."**_

Literally saved by the bell. Or the teacher, in this case.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

When Brandon was late in coming outside after school, Sonya quickly got worried. She knew that the thugs that beat him up before patrolled this area, too, but she wasn't just going to sit back and let him get hurt!

"Damn it, kid, making me care," she said, undoing her seatbelt.

Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

He was finally approaching her car.

His face was bloody.

Her teeth automatically gritted.

She took a deep breath to steady herself.

Her Stand internally growled.

He got in the car. There was a mutual silence between them.

They were both angry, but for different reasons.

She was angry because someone hurt Brandon.

He was just angry at Derek.

The only thing in her mind came bursting out, as suddenly as the thought itself had appeared.

She revved the engine to life and throttled it.

" **Who the** _ **fuck**_ **hurt you, Brandon?"** she shouted at him, then. Her eyes blazed with intensity.

"W-Whoa. Sonya. I'm fine. Calm down," Brandon said, attempting to reassure her.

It didn't work, and they were quickly home because of her recklessly fast driving.

An angry driver is also a fast one.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please review. Expect more soon!


	2. A Beginning, For Once

Welcome back to Embedded! Your humble guide through this story, all I ask for is reviews so I can improve myself. Now, to pick up where we left off...

Chapter Two: A Beginning, For Once

Sonya Davis was certainly angry. Her Hamon was even acting up, making her body crackle with orange electricity.

At least that's what she saw as she gripped the bathroom sink and looked into the mirror.

" _Damn kids, beating on him. They need to be taught a lesson,"_ she fumed internally.

She thought about what she would do to those kids. Her imagination only just stopped short of murder.

And it struck her as odd.

" _Am I...getting attached? To Brandon?"_ she thought.

She turned on the faucet, splashing water in her face and pulling her moisturiser out of a drawer.

" _Questions for later. Let's calm down, get dinner ready, and then you can worry about your crippling detachment issues."_

Her thoughts seemed almost bitter to the unknowing.

However, she wasn't bitter. Just lonely.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

And she meditated the best she could in her little refurbished closet that she called a room.

Her futon was...comfortable enough, she supposed.

But she couldn't focus. All of her thoughts came back to not being able to protect Brandon.

If she couldn't be there to protect him, he needed to be trained.

" _Well damn. This is outside of my expertise. But I guess I could help him with his Stand, if we could find a big enough place...with no people around."_

She frowned.

"Well, fuck."

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

" _She seems tense. I wonder if it's my fault."_

Brandon thought, looking down at the ground.

She was just putting a casserole together. It's not like it was a gargantuan task. So why did she seem so...annoyed?

He got up from his chair at the table, startling her.

She flinched, pausing in her work, almost cutting herself.

She heard the sound of him tightening his prosthetic leg, before he moved.

"Hey," he said, extending a hand, "are you alright?"

He reached over and touched her on the shoulder. With the gloved hand.

She froze, but didn't flinch away from his touch.

Slowly, she started to feel less tense, and more warm. More at ease.

He removed his hand when she didn't respond.

"Um. Sonya?"

Blinking herself out of her daze, she responded.

"Yes. I'm fine," she said, finally turning to face him, "aside from the fact that you got hurt today and that I couldn't do anything about it."

Her hands were on her hips and she was bearing down on him.

"I have to do something about your Stand. And your malnourishment. At the same time. That's a lot of work." She turned back to her cooking.

"I give you permission to take off your glove if you are in even the _slightest_ amount of danger. I'll take any blame for you taking it off. See to it that you at least fight back next time."

And like that, he was back in his seat, looking at her back.

Just who was she? And why did he care about what she had to say?

" _I don't even know her well. But she brings what I want into focus. I don't know if it's just her. But I like the passion that she has about everything. She's such a mystery."_

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

They both sat in the living room after they ate.

She was sprawled out on the couch, and he sat in his armchair, reading a crime novella.

There was a fire going in the fireplace, and it was warming the house, to be sure.

To note the month, it was November, after all. Even in Houston, it got a little cool at night.

So the fire was welcome, especially for Sonya, who was just about as underweight as Brandon.

She might have been powerful, at least by non-conventional means, but she was still just a slender woman that liked her feet to not be freezing all the damn time.

She basked in the heat of the flames, and dozed off.

" _She certainly looks comfortable. I think I'll take a little nap, too."_

He put his bookmark in, and put the book down on the floor.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Smoke.

His eyes snapped open, as his body threw itself out of his chair.

"Oh fuck." he whispered.

His eyes darted around, despite being stung by the intense heat and smoke.

Everything near the fireplace was on fire.

He saw the couch.

" _Sonya. Shit. She's not awake!"_

So he opened his mouth and yelled.

" _ **SONYA! Everything's ON FIRE!"**_

The flames roared in front of his face, separating the two of them.

And even after all of that, there was no response. She didn't even move.

Smoke inhalation. He was probably lucky that he was alive.

"Okay hand I know you do shit with heat! Glove is coming off!" He said this whilst ripping off the glove.

For a second, the flames stilled. Then, out of the blue, the flames started moving towards him.

A second arm materialized next to his.

It was charred a deep black with bright, glowing orange veins running through it. It was also partially see-through.

" **What the fuck!"**

He waggled his arm, and the other arm moved with it. The flames floated in the direction that he moved his arm.

"You know what," he said, "I think I get how you work!"

He closed his eyes and punched the air in the direction of the fireplace.

" _ **Yoro!"**_ His stand shouted.

The fire lifted off the ground, walls, and objects as it flew back into the fireplace.

And as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone again.

He didn't waste any time, leaping towards her, over the partially-burned carpet. He landed right next to the couch. Grabbing her firmly, he ran to the stairwell door.

As he was about to run into it, something gruesome appeared in front of him, for a split second.

It looked like a burned body, at least eight feet tall. Orange veins stuck out of its skin.

It wore a tunic of star-light, which swept around its entire body.

Cocking its arm back, it shouted rather loudly;

" _ **YORO!"**_

Its punch created a shockwave mid-air, which exploded and took the door off of its hinges.

Brandon just had one of those moments where time stands still.

His Stand turned around, before disappearing.

Where its eyes should have been were empty sockets filled with orange flame.

It nodded in respect of Brandon, and then vanished from view.

Brandon had to think about why he was hyperventilating.

He was afraid.

His heart was nearly tachycardic.

His body was shaking.

For a second, he had forgotten the woman in his arms.

And she wasn't breathing.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

When they arrived at the hospital, despite strenuous rescue breathing and chest compressions, she had no pulse and wasn't breathing.

Brandon was freaking out, which goes without saying.

When they wheeled her away to intensive care, he froze.

" _Is she...going to die?"_ he thought.

He started to wheeze, and his breathing stopped.

Brandon fainted on the spot, watching her being wheeled away to die.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Brandon Carmichael found himself surrounded by darkness.

There was a lone figure striding in his direction, looking to get past Brandon.

He wore a cloak of darkness, his skeletal frame everpresent.

Death.

He stopped just short of Brandon, noticing the boy seemingly for the first time.

Death sized him up, and nodded.

He spoke.

"I'm not here for you, boy. Step aside, and you will live. However, she will die, if you do not _stand_ your ground."

" _Wait,_ _ **stand?**_ _I don't even know what mine's ca-"_

He thought, before being cut off.

"Make up a name." Death was frank, and it was clear that he had little other option than to spit something out.

Its body and cloak came to mind.

Death almost seemed to smile as Brandon followed the set path of Fate.

" _ **Ashes to Starlight!"**_ Brandon shouted.

He could feel his Stand pop out behind him.

 _He was ready to die._

Death paused for a moment, and stopped next to him.

"You know, the intentions of humans are awfully easy to read. And yours….yours were pure. You didn't try to save yourself, and you weren't trying to save her for some other ulterior motive."

Death seemed confused by his own statement, but nodded while turning to face Brandon.

"No. There is an ulterior motive in you. You just don't realize it yet, so it won't count against you. This time."

And with that, Death disappeared.

The last thing Brandon heard before a bright light consumed him was a faint whisper in his right ear.

" _You are…_ _ **worthy**_ _...of her."_

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Brandon's heart starts. He inhales. His eyes open. Oxygen rushes through his body.

He studies his surroundings furiously.

" _Double bed room. Intensive care sign on door. She's here. Getting her prepped for bypass, which further increases chance of damage because her heart will be less likely to start again. I'm not intubated but they were about to start the process. The personnel are backing away from me. Good. That's convenient."_ Brandon's thoughts were scattered, but intelligent.

He sprang out of bed, further startling the staff.

"Ashes to Starlight," he whispered under his breath, so low that no one could hear him.

The burnt giant appeared once more, floating towards Sonya.

He felt confident, but was quick to try and help her.

Its starry tunic shrunk and wrapped its right hand, condensing into a bright light.

He willed it to heal her, and it did so.

It sank its hand directly into her chest, and Brandon felt Ashes to Starlight wrap its hand around her heart and squeeze slightly.

It grunted; " _ **Yoro."**_

A brief pause was found amongst everyone.

And then a beep. And then another. And then another.

Her heart had started.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

The first thing she saw when she woke up was the ceiling.

" _Fuck there's a tube in my throat."_

And indeed there was.

The damage to her esophagus was minimal, and her lungs were mostly unaffected. But they hadn't been so sure she'd wake up.

When she woke up, it was 11:39 in the morning.

Brandon was there, but he was out of view in the corner, reading.

He was just about to get up to get a drink when he saw something move on the other side of the room.

He flinched, and then looked closer to what was going on.

She was moving her arm. Her eyes were open.

He felt shivers spread across his spine as his face broadened into a fiercely unabashed smile.

He was at her side in seconds, helping her get the tube out, which was what she was trying to do. It sort of flopped to the side. She started to sit up as she started breathing consciously.

Brandon pushed her backwards until she was laying down again.

"Lean back, young lady. You aren't moving until I say so."

She smiled simply. Tears formed in her eyes, before they fell down her cheeks.

She grasped his arm, and looked him in the eyes.

They shared a moment in time, unbroken by anything.

She spoke, if a little raspily.

"You're...a-alright."

He nodded. The tears were there in his eyes, when she looked for them.

Something clicked between them, as he moved away. He grabbed his chair from the other side of the room, and came back.

He sat it at her bedside, looking down at the ground for a moment.

When he sat, he looked at her, his whole expression full of joy.

He held her left hand between both of his, and Brandon Carmichael wept with joy.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

They were both allowed to leave two days later, but there was one caveat to their release. The house was still being repaired, though the repairs were going quickly and would be paid for in full by the Speedwagon Foundation.

They would be staying at a lodge about an hour away. It was closer to Sonya's hometown, and it was the most...relaxing location out of the many they'd had.

The two of them had some clothes transferred from the house and prepared for their three-day stay at the lodge.

And all was well.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

All was mostly well, anyway. The one problem with the lodge's arrangements for them was that while there was adequate lodgings in one room for two people, that was when assuming the two people were okay with sleeping in the same bed.

Sonya was blushing the entire time when they finally arrived at their room, until Brandon mentioned that he would sleep on the floor; on the condition that he got the duvet.

The rosiness soon disappeared from her cheeks as they unpacked their suitcases neatly into the same dresser.

He blushed and looked away when she got out her underwear. He wasn't used to seeing women's undergarments, after all.

She smirked and rasped in his direction; "Really? You were man enough to _save_ _me from a fiery demise,_ but you're afraid to look at my underwear when they're not even on my body?"

He blushed even harder.

"I don't need to imagine you in those sorts of clothes. That's wrong, I think?" He said that out loud, but internally, he did _want_ to think about her wearing much, much less.

"Honestly? It's not that wrong. It's natural to want to see me in this sort of thing. You do like women, right? That wasn't really touched on in your file." Her smile was wry, but internally she was...nervous?

What if he didn't like women?

He chuckled nervously. "Yes. I like y-women. I like women."

Both of them froze.

"Well. If you like _women_ so much I don't see why you're not jumping at the chance to get into bed with one," Sonya said, acting as though she hadn't heard his slip-up. She knew there was something deeper to that mistake.

He wouldn't have said it as the first response to her question _**unless he meant it.**_

"Well what if someone came in here and saw us in the same bed? It could ruin your career, right? I mean I guess if there were no consequences…"

He said, trailing off.

"No consequences, what? Are you saying that we can't share this _reasonably sized bed_ and that neither of us can behave like professional adults?"

And to that, Brandon had no response.

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, please go to the bathroom. I plan on bathing and would prefer if you didn't interrupt me." While she did say this with a steady voice, she did give him a wink at the end.

And to that end, he scurried off to the bathroom.

After he slammed the door, Sonya Davis smiled to herself. Just a little bit.

" _I could fall for him. Maybe."_

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

" _Brandon talked a big game before. Let's see if he can back it up."_ Sonya thought, getting up.

"Hey Brandon. Get ready for bed," she said casually, while stripping off her outer pajamas.

She felt the air heat up perceptibly as she reached into her part of the dresser to pull out a translucent nightgown.

He was frozen in place.

"Holy fuck," he said entirely out loud, "you...wow."

He was stunned into silence as he looked her up and down.

She glanced at him.

"I would say language, but you're being honest, which I like. A lot. So, and here's your last chance, _get ready for bed."_

And like an idiot, Brandon spoke out loud.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Give me the duvet. I'll sleep right here."

The tension went right out of her shoulders as the disappointment in her heart grew.

" _Fuck. That settles that. Guess I'm gonna be cold tonight. Again. Should have known better,"_ Sonya thought, chucking the duvet at him angrily, " _than to think I wouldn't have to sleep by myself for once."_

He caught the duvet, and noticed her anger.

" _Come on you idiot, say something, and soon! Um..."_

Then it clicked. Soon. Too soon.

She shut all the lights off and got into bed.

And then Brandon spoke up.

"Hey."

The word broke the angry silence between them.

She turned her head towards him as she lay in bed.

"What."

" _Oh shit...she's angry. How can I comfort her?"_

He thought this before having another eureka moment.

"It is just too soon. And I'm right over here. Do you just need a hug or something?"

She mulled his words over.

She sat up, and turned on the lamp on her side table.

She nodded. "You know what? Yeah. I could go for a hug right now. Get over here."

Brandon got up. He stretched and walked the six steps to her bedside.

She held her arms out, almost childishly.

He didn't care if she was being childish. He had finally figured part of her out.

He leant into her, and wrapped his arms around her back.

"You're lonely, aren't you?"

He whispered those words into her left ear.

" _ **Not anymore."**_

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Their stay at the lodge was over quickly.

Their days had been filled with quiet walks of introspection, hot springs, and for Sonya, a hot mud bath.

The one moment in time that is of significance to this story is when she got back from that mud bath.

She was cold after getting out of the hot mud, and after getting sprayed down by the spa staff, she was even colder. She arrived back at the room to find Brandon was cold, too, as he was wearing a turtleneck sweater.

He was reading on the loveseat where they'd left their jackets.

After she had gotten no less than four awkward looks for being in a swimsuit, she finally said something.

"I might get the wrong message if you just look _and don't say anything."_ She was clearly annoyed. A vein throbbed in her forehead.

It still took him an entire minute to think up a response.

"Umm...you're stunning? You take my breath away. I can't speak when I see you like this. I'm sorry!" He responded sheepishly.

It was Sonya's turn to be stunned then.

She had no idea of how to respond to that.

So she went for the simple response.

"Wow. Thank you. You should close the blinds. I'm going to be taking a nap. While sitting next to you. Get comfortable."

He suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. "Um, can I say no?"

She lifted an eyebrow while she got dressed. "You can, yes. But do you really want to? You seem cold."

Her eyes were playful as she slid a blouse down over her other garments.

"Come on. Concede. Move over."

And he did. And was glad for the moment when she fell asleep leaning on his chest.

She was...surprisingly soft in some places he didn't expect.

" _Wow. Full package. She's even a Stand user. Mom would be proud. I think."_

His thoughts were uncertain, about that one.

All that was left to do, really, was return her affection.

And he did.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Their dinner that night was held in the ballroom. All the guests were invited.

Even though he'd insisted she didn't have to, Sonya got a little dressed up. A nice red dress, which covered everything down to the knees.

Roast duck, as it were, was quickly becoming one of Brandon's favorite dishes. But not because it tasted good.

He was eating it with excellent company.

Such excellent company, that said company caught the attention of one overly-presumptuous bachelor.

A trust-fund child, to be certain, a young man in his twenties introduced himself as Devon.

He was taller and much more physically imposing than Brandon. But he was also over-dressed in a three-piece suit.

He kept annoying Sonya, from where he sat at the adjacent table.

So annoyed of him was Sonya Davis that she asked Brandon to get rid of him.

"Brandon, can you take your glove off and do me a favor? Burn him. Just a little bit. You know the right spot," she whispered mischievously.

Brandon chuckled, taking his glove off.

"Wait, your Stand does use heat, right?" She asked, a little late.

" **Ashes to Starlight."** He spoke quietly enough that no one aside from Sonya heard him.

The charred giant appeared behind him, as terrifying as ever.

" _Wow that's metal as hell,"_ Sonya thought.

Needless to say, the man-child accidentally spilled his hot drink on his lap, and had to be taken to the hospital.

They weren't bothered for the rest of the evening, or at all during their stay, after that.

Her smile, however playful, was worth doing stupid things for.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

They were allowed back into Brandon's apartment complex on Friday.

Sonya was in good spirits as soon as Brandon shut the stairwell door behind them.

It was about 7:00 PM.

"Finally. Home, as it were. What do you want for dinner?" Sonya lightly intoned.

"McDonalds. You should know by now that food doesn't stay good forever. We're gonna have to go shopping. But tonight I want McDonalds because a burger sounds really good after all that fine dining." He wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Come here."

She let herself get pulled in.

When he went for a hug instead of a kiss she was only half-disappointed.

" _It's okay. This, too, will do."_

She was happy.

He was happy.

And that was enough.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

The McDonalds was pretty full, and it was apparent from the second they had to park in another store's parking lot to even get a spot.

And Brandon was officially annoyed at people. Especially people that cat-called his favorite person, when he was right there.

A homeless man sitting next to the outside vents tried to grab Sonya's butt.

Not only did she _let it happen,_ but she refused to let Brandon do anything.

"It's a man's world, Brandon. It's something I have to deal with, as an attractive woman. You have permission to aid me in only the most extreme cases of harassment. Otherwise, we're supposed to be laying low."

That is what she told Brandon on the way into the McDonalds. He held the door for her, and watched as the whole mood of the place change. One man immediately accosted her, not seeing Brandon behind her.

He was leaning on the wall. He was at least 45 and grey as anything could be. He was clearly past his prime.

"Hello there, young lady. Are you looking to stay out of the cold tonight? I own a ranch just out of town and you could probably use the money-"

And Brandon cut him off, stepping in front of her defensively.

Heat in excess of 130 degrees bore down on the man for about two second before he backed off and made his way out of the restaurant.

Sonya was silent.

Brandon then floated in a soft blur back behind Sonya.

It was like he had never stepped in to help.

"Good. Non-violent, yet violent at the same time. I approve."

He said nothing.

He stood by as she ordered the food.

He didn't like how that man treated her.

" _It's almost like he thought she was a prostitute or something. So fucking rude."_ His anger was intense, even though the conversation was over.

People are rude.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

But some other people are great.

In fact, as he took off his prosthetic leg to lounge around on the living room floor, Brandon was looking more and more...dare she say it...eligible as a partner?

His Stand was becoming more powerful with every time he used it.

It was already stronger than hers, if Sonya was being honest with herself.

Her stand was apparently atypical, with it not being humanoid, and being made up of more than one thing.

He was growing a really terrible facsimile of a beard, but that was okay.

He...was handsome, in his own way. An underweight, overpowered way.

She smiled to herself. " _Why do I like you so much? I should think of you as just a friend, at best. I don't even know if he likes me in that way. He hasn't even said it outright. Am I overthinking this?"_ Sonya's thoughts were intense.

"Hey. Brando. You like me, right?" Her question echoed through the room.

Brandon paused in his self-adjustment on the ground.

He blinked.

"...yes. Of course. You have inserted yourself so deeply into my life that there's no way I wouldn't be attached to you. So if that's what you want to hear, I think we should maybe take the first step. Here and now." Brandon Carmichael, for all his faults, had never been one to falter when something was important to him.

Sonya hadn't expected him to be so decisive.

"Yeah. We can do that. I know just the thing."

About an hour later, their blanket fortress had been finished.

"This, beautiful Miss Davis, was an excellent idea," Brandon said, peering out between the couch cushions and air mattress that made up the walls of the fort.

The blankets they'd draped overhead were just high enough for the two of them to sit up and not touch them.

She'd brought in only one blanket. A comforter. Brandon was nervous about where this was going. But he was also looking forward to it in a very real way, with a boosted heart rate and all.

"So. Are we gonna do this or not. Because I'm definitely ready to get going," Sonya said, reaching into her pocket to grab something. Something plastic.

"Um. We're not having sex. Not now. I meant I wanted to cuddle you and maybe kiss you I'm sorry I've never done this before…"

She paused. And took her hand out of her pocket.

She seemed a little disappointed by her sigh.

"Oh. Why are you so damn cute? Come here, lover boy."

She proceeded to straddle him, while he had his back up against the couch.

With the little bit of light that got through the crocheted blanket, her eyes were visibly blazing with her Stand's energy.

She put a hand behind his head. He did the same.

"You do want this, right?" Her breath smelled like burger, but he didn't care.

"Does this answer your question?"

He pulled her in, kissing her with a closed mouth, keeping it chaste.

She smiled and pulled him to the ground with her, on top of the comforter.

They quickly got entangled with each other.

Her being taller than him was a little odd, but in the end, they were just two more people falling in love, one big step at a time.

If the neighbors could have heard them, they would have heard only the enraptured laughter of a young woman, and the soft breathing of the young man that was currently tickling her.

God, they were so happy.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

When he woke up, there was something weird about his surroundings.

And then he realized there was a body pressed up against his, and a head of messy black hair in his face.

 _Sonya._

It didn't look like dawn yet. Looking up at the clock above the now-electric fireplace, he could see that it was 2:54 AM. He could stay right here. In this bliss.

Her body was so firm and impossibly warm to the touch.

And yet with all her firmness, she was undeniably the softest body he'd ever had the pleasure of holding tight.

His hands roamed around her body. She wasn't even wearing a bra, to his surprise.

She sighed in pleasure in a half-awake state.

Her Stand was audibly purring.

She didn't know what was going on, just that it was _right._

He felt something else. An urge to keep her near.

It was almost like what he'd imagined love to be.

"Am I really in love with you," he whispered in the softest way into her right ear.

The way they were pressed together might have been uncomfortable in any other circumstance, but in this hazy, love-induced state, they could both care less about comfort.

He'd never really understood beginnings. It was why his Stand was the way it was.

Brandon Carmichael viewed things in endings.

Ashes after a fire, starlight after darkness.

He didn't yet understand that this little beginning, in his modest home, with Sonya, would be the most important beginning of his life.

Because it was also an end to two peoples loneliness.

Even if it brought about his only ending, this was worth it.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Smells.

Cheddar cheese, possibly sharp.

Ham, honey-cured.

Egg, freshly scrambled.

Sonya woke up in an amazing mood. The sounds of breakfast were abound.

Their blanket fort was currently falling apart, and she already missed the feeling of his body against hers, but otherwise, she felt better than she had in years.

Sizzling and soft footsteps to not wake the neighbors, the quiet clattering of plates as they gently scraped against each other.

Brandon, her man(?), was making food?

She called out to him.

"You can cook? Since when?" Her voice was soft and drowsy to his ears.

"Only for you, Sonya. I learn quickly. This is only the second attempt, after all." There was a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

She smiled and laughed to herself while she got up, stretching her limber body in many ways her boyfriend(?) couldn't.

She arrived in the kitchen in seconds, kissing her partner(?) on the cheek.

"One omelette, coming up. Be careful, it was made with love." His eyes were playful, and he waggled an eyebrow at her, extending her plate out to her.

She giggled as she accepted her food.

"Thanks, hon," she said, waggling an eyebrow back.

He blushed. His heart fluttered in his chest.

Once it had calmed down, he started cleaning up.

"That reminds me. What are we?"

Sonya perked up, chewing and swallowing quickly to answer his question.

"Well. I know what I want us to be. Whether you'll agree or not is the problem." Sonya was blushing heavily.

Brandon's expression relaxed. "Well, out with it, then." His voice was even.

"I think that we should make this something serious. I don't know what love is like, but I think I might love you."

Brandon couldn't speak for several minutes.

"..." He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

After finally composing himself and plenty of blushing from both sides, he nodded.

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

And while it was a moment fit for happy tears, none were shed.

But they shared an embrace that could have lasted forever.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

The bliss didn't last forever, because while she was indeed in love with him, training him was part of the job description.

For the next few days, after he was picked up from school, they went to a private gymnasium owned by a sponsor of the Speedwagon Foundation.

And she beat the shit out of him.

So many times.

At first, he'd been enthralled by her tight workout clothes.

He was less enthralled when her Stand was trying its best to kill him.

His training was primarily learning how to deploy his Stand against another, more experienced, Stand user.

And he got his ass beat. A lot.

Turns out being mauled by two big cats isn't fun at all.

Even when their Stand user is really easy on the eyes.

In fact, he only won once.

He had ducked under both of the cats, barely avoiding their claws, and gotten in close enough to be able to use his Stand, which only had a range of four meters.

Sonya realized that she wouldn't be able to bring her Stand back in time to defend herself.

So she immediately conceded, going down on her knees with both arms in the air.

"Not looking to die. You win." Sonya admitted, if a little begrudgingly.

"I would win all of these bouts if I wasn't afraid of killing you. If I damage your Stand, I damage you. That's the point of this. Is to learn to move correctly, and learn control, lest I kill you."

His voice was even again. He was certain in whatever he was talking about, for sure.

"Yes," Sonya said, getting up, dusting off her knees, "you would lose more than just a trainer if you killed me. I am _your partner._ And when you turn eighteen in two months, that will be official."

They both blushed. It had been a week since they got home, and they had been having a good time outside of training, with candlelit dinners and the like.

Sonya pulled herself to her full height.

"And really, speaking as your instructor, yes. You could easily kill me if you got within range. But this training is about control. And you're showing me that your flexibility isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Your ability to strategize could use some work, but otherwise, for only a week of training, you're doing remarkably well, hon."

She winked on the last word, making him laugh.

The bliss was still there, hidden under their expressions.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

They ate light that night, as it was Friday night and they'd be sleeping in the next day.

Sonya brought out some of her Italian roots, making a genuine margarita pizza.

When it came out of the oven, Brandon's eyes widened.

"Oh my god that looks amazing...like you." He smiled while flirting.

"I know," she squeaked out while she burned herself on the pan, "Fuck!"

The pan dropped out of her hand, as she reflexively jerked her hand away.

Brandon dove for the pan.

" _ **Ashes to Starlight!"**_

Sonya braced herself for the clattering that was to come.

The charred giant caught the pan mid-air with as much delicacy as a mother would have holding her newborn child.

Sonya cracked her eyes open. Ashes to Starlight returned the pan to the counter.

"Well, I guess I don't need to train you on control anymore," she said, clutching her hand, which was already blistering.

His Stand withdrew back behind him.

"Hey. Sonya. Let me see it. My stand healed your heart. It might be able to help your hand, too."

His look of concern convinced her to comply.

She extended her hand. It had blisters forming in a straight line across her hand from where she accidentally grabbed the handle when it was still hot.

"That's pretty bad. Well. Here goes nothing."

His eyes hardened, then.

His Stand's tunic wrapped around its hand, once again condensing.

It lightly grasped her hand in between its own, and a pulse of starlight filled the room, radiating from her hand.

And it was like the healing process had been sped up.

She had a thin, straight scar across her hand.

His Stand nodded, and disappeared, a job well done.

They ate their pizza in near silence. It was that good.

Sometimes, the simple pleasure in helping someone else is more powerful than you expect.

They clinked their respective wine glasses.

"To your health," Sonya intoned gently before taking a sip.

"And to the health of you, my incredible partner."

Brandon intoned back, before partaking in the toast himself.

Love just sort of found them. But they were okay with that.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

While they hated sleeping in separate beds, they both also knew it was for the best.

They'd had a minor argument about it on Wednesday night, when Sonya didn't want to sleep alone.

Brandon had found it difficult to refuse her, but he did.

"No. I get way too... **excited** , when we sleep together. We might do something that we regret."

He was embarrassed about talking about his anatomy, but he had to say no.

So he did.

"But what if we didn't regret it?" Sonya said, her voice splitting the air.

"If it's not legal and you get pregnant, you could get in a lot of trouble. As it is, our relationship is completely unprofessional. But this is for your own good. I promise you. When I turn eighteen, we will do all the normal things that come with being a...sexually active couple."

His face was red as hell as he finished getting his point across.

And that's where the argument had ended. They went to bed annoyed at each other, but they kissed each other goodbye when she dropped him off at school the next day.

She'd been annoyed, sure, but if he wanted to wait, she would wait.

And that's how their first argument played out. He won.

As she laid in bed on Friday, November 20th, 1987, she didn't know that her life was already changing right in front of her.

She felt a shiver as one word chilled her body to its very core.

 _January._


	3. Thanksgiving

Embedded

Chapter 3: Thanksgiving

As they moved through the motions of another day, their moods got progressively better.

They didn't really do much that day.

But just the presence of the other person was enough to vastly improve their quality of life.

They sat in front of the electric fireplace, which had been installed courtesy of the Speedwagon Foundation.

It added a warm breeze to the room.

She leant on his shoulder, even though she was the taller one.

"You know...I've been thinking. As comfortable as this is, I could really go for a snuggle right now."

Her voice sounded drowsy. And she was drowsy. But she was also starving for affection.

"Right now? Okay…I'll go get a blanket. Stay here, ya goof." He said as he got up, smiling.

She sprawled herself out, stretching her midsection and legs.

"Hey. I may be a goof. But I'm _your_ goof. You'd do well to remember that."

Gosh, her happiness was contagious.

She was surprised when a blanket hit her in the face.

She paused, silently indignant.

Her annoyance was shattered when she felt him grab her sides and start tickling.

"Ah! You bastard! I'm gonna _get you back for this later_ if you don't stop now!" She said in a dangerous tone in between laughs.

He stopped, and lifted the blanket off of her face.

After he pecked her on the lips, he grabbed the comforter, and wrapped it around the two of them.

"To the couch, or would you rather stay here on the floor?" He asked, rather chivalrously.

She thought for a moment. He could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain.

"Couch is more comfortable."

Her reply was simple enough.

"Okay," he said, picking her up bridal style, "let's get comfortable, then."

He put her down delicately, as if she were a flower, freshly-picked.

He tucked himself in behind her, pressing his front against her back whilst wrapping them up in the comforter.

Wrapping his arms around her middle-section, he got _blissfully_ comfortable.

He pushed her shirt up, reveling in the feeling of her bare skin.

The only words that came to mind just so happened to be perfect, and they flowed out like three perfect droplets of water onto a leaf.

"I love you."

aaaaaAaaaaa

Sonya didn't really understand what she felt in that moment.

She was a little confused.

" _Surely he doesn't mean that."_ Her thoughts were like a sandstorm, whipping all rational thought into a dust made of chaos.

The space between their hearts was only a few inches, as they lay front-to-back.

And then every unimportant thought in her mind ceased.

Stopped.

This was her chance!

"...I love you too."

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

Their lives after they confessed were the same in many ways. Sonya still got up to have her tea before making him breakfast.

Brandon still got up just barely early enough to hitch a ride to school after shaving off his scraggly beard-thing and eating her wonderful breakfasts.

Their kisses as he said goodbye at the front doors of the school were still just as sweet.

Their afternoon training sessions were still just as violent and dangerous. The owner of that gymnasium must have been crazy to let them use it.

One particular day in late November, the day of Thanksgiving, however, there was something special in the air.

To set the scene, as it were, the two of them were huddled by the fireplace.

It wasn't working.

It was also 6:00 AM. They'd both just gotten up.

"Damn it," Brandon swore, "the one day I want you to work, you go and quit on me."

"I guess you'll have to be the one keeping me warm today, hon." Sonya interjected.

He plopped himself on the ground. He patted the spot next to him, and pulled the blanket from the couch. "Come here."

Didn't have to tell Sonya twice. She basically flying tackled her partner.

"Hey, Brandon?" She said, sprawled across his lap, laying on her back, looking up at him.

"Yes, love?" He questioned.

"It's thanksgiving. I have to start cooking. You cannot bother me while I cook. Also," she said, sitting up, "You're meeting my parents today."

" _Oh, fuck."_ His mind was suddenly looking into ways to get of this situation.

Sonya saw him shaking and panicking, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be fine, now go figure out what you're going to wear while they're here, and get a list of things to clean together, and we'll work on it together. Okay? And, break."

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

And so Brandon was faced with a choice.

A classy turtleneck to hide his thinness, or a sweater-vest combo to show off?

Those were his only two options. Being a normal guy and not worrying about what he was wearing, he chose the turtleneck.

He got the list together as she desired.

The bathroom, her room, his room, and the hallway to the stairwell door.

"That's it? I guess that's fine." He mumbled to himself.

He got started on the bathroom.

It was taking him an absurdly long time to clean the bathroom, so he did the only logical thing.

He brought out his Stand, which could catch a bullet with its razor-sharp reflexes.

The bathroom was clean in minutes. And cleaned perfectly.

When Sonya checked on him, and found the bathroom actually spotless, and Brandon with his stand deployed.

Ashes to Starlight had a truly disgusting rag in its hand.

"Points for ingenuity, love. Now go clean your room, and then come help me figure out what to cook for dessert." She pecked him on the lips and darted back to the kitchen.

And clean his room he did.

When he returned to the kitchen only five minutes later, she was only a little surprised.

"Well that certainly didn't take long, now did it?" Her voice was amused.

Her back was to him, and he held her like that, his front to her back.

"Nope. Being around you is a great incentive, you know." He was entirely unabashed about saying that.

And it was, in his defense, an excellent incentive.

He quickly let go, not trying to be clingy.

"So….dessert."

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

By the time her parents arrived that evening, Brandon looked like a respectable young member of society.

He was wearing his tortoiseshell eyeglasses instead of his expensive contacts, to look classier. His prosthetic leg was covered up by his khaki pants. He was aesthetically ready to meet her parents.

He saw her parent's car pull up from his armchair in the living room, and told Sonya nonchalantly.

"Sonya, your parents have arrived. Would you be a dear and see them in?" He said while reading the newspaper.

"For you? Yeah." Her reply was quick.

And then she left to buzz them in.

The stairwell door opened, and then shut.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

When it opened again, Brandon made eye contact with the first person that came through the door. Her father, who apparently made his wife or daughter hold the door for him.

Brandon's eyebrows furrowed. The apartment immediately gained temperature. "Excuse me. I expected Sonya to be the one who had the door held for her."

Her father froze in his spot. His eyes were cold.

"And you must be...him." Her father's voice was deep and raspy.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties, and was 6'2 when slouching over. He started to move over.

"Yes. I am Brandon," he said, before getting up, "please do take off your shoes. It shows respect to my house."

"That's okay. I only showed up here to wring your neck for getting involved with my daughter. The women are out in the hallway. And trust me, my daughter isn't happy about this. But I told her that I would be in a grave before she found a man. Or, in your case, a boy."

His voice was firm and unwavering. If this fight were purely physical, he would have good reason to be confident.

But as Brandon's glove came off, it suddenly became increasingly warm around Mr. Davis.

The man took a step back as the air around his body was suddenly so hot he couldn't breathe.

His nose started bleeding from how dry it was.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fainted.

Brandon put his glove back on.

Her father almost immediately came to, and Brandon told him to get out.

And the man did. He took his wife and left.

Sonya saw her parents out, and returned to the apartment.

aaaaaaAaaaaaa

They ate in near silence, Sonya's eyes still puffy and red from when she'd been crying.

She spoke.

"You know, he doesn't approve of anyone. It's not just you," she said, reaching out and grasping his hand.

"It's okay. Not too many people like me in the first place. I am only really grateful for one person today, on this beautiful Thanksgiving."

He sounded like he was about to break down.

"You."

And Sonya's eyes were filled with fresh tears, and she was only barely able to get out a response.

"I love you, you know that? No matter what anyone says, I love you. And on this beautiful Thanksgiving, I am thankful for you."

 _Love in in the air_

 _A painstaking swear_

 _On the hearts of two_

 _Before either are black and blue_

 _One will thrive, one will suffer_

 _Before another year is due._


	4. Intensity

Embedded

Chapter 4: Intensity

Brandon's room was usually silent at night, aside from the traffic on the street below.

Tonight was different.

A shadow moved through the brick alleyway that went under their complex.

Of course, Brandon and Sonya slept peacefully, entirely unaware.

Unaware when a man had a shimmering hand appear apart from his own. They were unaware of that hand ripping the door to the complex clean off, simultaneously breaking all of the locks.

This being 1987, no alarms went off. The landlord was cheap, and electric alarm systems were in their earliest infancy.

They slept until Sonya felt something heavy on her chest. Her eyes fluttered open.

The sight of a man there made her chest seize.

Her panic attack restrained her breathing and knocked her out before she could resist with her Stand.

aaaaaAaaaaa

Brandon slept until he heard something...other than traffic?

He sat up in bed, his disabled and gloved hand rubbing his face.

Something was off.

He'd heard something.

"What the hell…?" His voice was soft.

It was almost too quiet, for a moment.

And then it happened.

In the dark right outside his open doorway, he heard someone take a breath.

Brandon Carmichael froze on the spot.

His Stand automatically tried to deploy. But his glove was on.

The glove suppressed any use of his Stand.

Including when it decided to deploy to protect him.

His hand started to heat up inside of the glove, illuminating the doorway he was looking towards.

The man was only intimidating because of one thing. He wasn't alone.

Something floated out of the man's body out of the doorway. It was taller and broader than Brandon was. But it was clearly no normal man.

" _A Stand? Couldn't be…"_

The man spoke, and Brandon did nothing.

"Intensity." His voice was gruff, and Brandon felt himself moving.

Glass shattered.

And with that, Brandon Carmichael had two seconds to react before he hit the pavement.

He had been pushed out of his own bedroom window.

Fortunately for him, his glove had caught on the glass as it was breaking.

His Stand deployed seven feet above the ground, slamming its fist into the building, and bringing Brandon's fall to a halt.

He dropped down safely, and that is when the man jumped out of the window himself.

As he was illuminated by the lamp-posts, Brandon finally saw his Stand clearly.

It was a mother-of-pearl coated humanoid. It's joints were metallic, just like its crab-like pincers.

It had two simple dots for eyes. They were, in reality, similar to the eyes of a fly.

Its vision was perfect when facing its opponent.

Brandon saw as it punched toward the ground, slowing its master's descent.

The man landed softly.

"I'm impressed. Lord Dio didn't mention that your Stand was powerful enough to stop a fall from that height." The man rolled up his sleeves, before introducing himself.

"I am Leroy Hosz, Stand-user and assassin for hire. This is my Stand, Intensity."

" _What is going on?"_ Brandon asked himself, still attempting to wake up. His Stand re-deployed, _**Ashes to Starlight**_ appearing behind him.

The man dashed forward.

He barely got a meter into _**Ashes to Starlight's**_ range before he was flat on his ass, the imprint of a fist on his face.

He looked up from the ground, completely stunned.

"Usually, high-power combat stands have less range in which to fight. How did you just strike me?" He was outraged, despite him being the one that attacked Brandon first.

"Simple. My Stand is called _**Ashes to Starlight.**_ Its range is eight meters. Sorry if your range is smaller."

Note: Brandon was not even slightly sorry.

Leroy still smirked as he got up.

"Your woman didn't think my _range_ was small."

And like that, he had less than three seconds left.

He hadn't noticed, or simply couldn't tell, but he was still within range of Brandon's Stand.

The last thing he saw before being brutally murdered was the empty eye sockets of _**Ashes to Starlight**_ filling up with flames as the Stand floated above him, drawing its fists back.

"Oh no." Famous last words.

He heard one thing before he died.

" _ **YOR-"**_

He felt a sharp pain on his forehead.

And then he knew nothing.

aaaaaAaaaaa

Sonya was passed out in the hallway.

Her Stand had deployed mid-way through his assault of her, stopping him before he could do any real harm.

Brown Cat was still circling her when Brandon came racing into the apartment.

Her nightclothes were all still on.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned the corner and didn't see a puddle of blood.

Instead, he saw Brown Cat. Leaping towards him.

"Oh fuck," he said, closing his eyes and accepting his fate.

But her Stand dissipated, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Oh wow. Alive. Shit," she said as she blinked away tears of joy.

"Yeah. You're alive. Did he…"

Brandon said, trailing off.

"No. And I have a lot to explain to you, apparently. I never expected him to send someone here, of all places." She was more annoyed by the attack than anything.

The guy was obviously dead, from the splattering of blood and grey matter on Brandon's pajamas.

She got up. Leading Brandon to the kitchen, she steeled her nerves.

It was time for the Dio talk.

" _Fuck me."_ Her nerves were shot anyway.

She sat down at the kitchen table, putting her hands over her face, exasperated.

aaaaaAaaaaa

"Dio is, in short order, the greatest current threat to humanity. Aside from humanity itself and the concurrent fear of nuclear war. Dio is a vampire, who was thought to have been slain by Jonathan Joestar. Jonathan was Mr. Joestar's grandfather."

Sonya's explanation was simple enough.

"Mr. Joestar's own grandson recently destroyed Dio for good. The assassin sent after us must have been the last one Dio sent out."

And that was less simple. Brandon tilted his head to the side, a cartoonish question-mark appearing above his head.

"Listen. That's all I know. I'm certainly not privy to everything, so excuse me if some of my information is wrong."

Brandon shook the question mark away; "It's fine. I was confused, but I think I've got it now."

"Sure."

aaaaaAaaaaa

Later that same morning (for it was Saturday morning), there was a violent pounding at the door.

Neither of them were awake, but Brandon quickly woke up from the sound of a doorknob being jimmied.

"Motherfucker," he said while jumping up from his bed, "can't these people leave us alone?"

Rushing through the kitchen and towards the stairway door, he came face to face with a man in a ski mask as the door's lock was finally broken.

"Hello." Brandon stood his ground.

The man licked his lips. "Sup lil' nigga."

" _Oh fuck. Nonononononono…"_

Brandon immediately brought out _**Ashes to Starlight.**_

 _ **Bang.**_

The man took one step inside the door and noticed something.

"What the fuck is wrong...with my… chest…"

He said, slowly falling down.

There was a hole in his chest.

aaaaaAaaaaa

The sheriff that showed up was more than happy to collect Brandon's statement.

The fact that he was white, while the one dead was black, certainly helped in the eyes of the sheriff.

He was more than happy to let Brandon and Sonya off with that. Especially after Sonya mentioned a certain Mr. Joestar.

As soon as she mentioned being in kahoots with Joseph Joestar, the sheriff clammed up briefly, before apologizing and taking his leave.

The CSU unit got done as swiftly as possible.

There wasn't even a body out front, which Brandon thought was odd.

Just some dust, and a metal fragment. It had a beetle on it, oddly enough.

Brandon pocketed it on his way to get pizza.

And he thought nothing of it.

aaaaaAaaaaa

They were both decidedly hungry when Brandon arrived home with the two pizzas. Meatlovers for Sonya, and Supreme for Brandon.

"God I hate olives." He said, picking them all off.

He watched as she shoved an entire, meat-filled slice into her mouth.

"Whoa. Okay. You're either hungry or trying to make a point."

Her eyes were smiling as she swallowed the whole thing.

He was distinctly turned on.

" _How did she not just choke on that much pizza."_

The mood between them was warm, for once.

It wouldn't be that way for long, but for a moment, everything was just right.


	5. Tension

Embedded

Chapter 5: Tension

When he had to go back to school that Monday, Sonya hardly wanted to let him out of her sight. But she wouldn't let him stay home for no reason at all.

"Brandon. Get up."

There was no response from his room, in which the windows had finally been replaced the night before.

"If you don't get up I'm eating your pizza too."

His Stand had her pinned to the wall in seconds. It was a light pin, with no intent to harm, but Sonya understood. She wasn't the one in charge here, despite her age or experience.

He was physically stronger. His Stand could catch bullets and destroy buildings. She just couldn't keep up with that.

He could easily kill her in this position. And yet, even when mostly unconscious, he didn't.

She felt her face turn pink.

" _Fuck! Why am I getting turned on by this?! Nope!"_

One healthy dose of Hamon to his Stand's face later, and Brandon was decidedly awake.

They didn't speak until she dropped him off at school.

Not when she made him breakfast, like he wanted.

Not when she made his lunch, like he wanted.

And especially not when she tried to kiss him.

There were no words. If they would only be negative, they had nothing to say.

When she dropped him off, he only had three words for her.

"See you tonight."

aaaaaAaaaaa

Something had been off for the last few weeks in gym class. Brandon noticed as he was changing, that he...wasn't being harassed? And he… hadn't been for a while?

"What the fuck," he quietly whispered, violently confused.

"What the fuck indeed, you sissy."

Brandon heard from right behind him.

He saw stars as a fist slammed into his left temple, knocking him into the red steel lockers.

His head made a conspicuous dent in them.

Everyone certainly heard the crash, but no one investigated. They knew better than to mess with Derek when he was on the warpath.

Especially fresh out of suspension.

It took Brandon a minute to recover. All the while, Derek stood over him, gloating and basking in his own inflated ego.

The _second_ Brandon was conscious enough to say something, he gave Derek one warning. His last one.

"G-get lost. Before I take your head clean off," he said, stuttering.

Derek's eyebrows rose, and he took one step back.

He spoke to Brandon, who was still attempting to stand up.

"Get up, then. Square up, you little shit," he said, tensing up.

Brandon took the chance to get up in stride, levering his body up off of one of the benches.

"This is your last warning. Back off," he said, unstrapping the velcro on his new glove and sliding it off, "or I'm gonna knock your _fucking head off."_

His eyes were fierce.

Derek didn't notice everything getting warm, considering that it wasn't unusual for the boy's locker room to be terribly warm.

He did notice the slight shimmering around Brandon's body, and he squinted.

" _Is he bluffing? There have been some awfully violent murders in his neck of the woods lately…no, he has to be bluffing. Just a trick of the light. Um… I know. Make fun of the tall bitch he hangs around."_ Derek's thoughts weren't overly complex, and his face betrayed him, for the most part.

"You know, that whore my friends have seen you around town with is pretty hot. You should give me the card of the brothel she works for." And with that, Derek could have sealed his fate.

But fate, it seemed, smiled brightly on Derek.

Turning his back on him, Brandon spoke; "I forgive you. Stay away. Or," Brandon said, deploying _**Ashes to Starlight**_.

There was a loud crash, and what was once a nine-foot tall set of lockers was five feet tall in one spot, having been crumpled nearly in half by an intense blow.

"That could be you."

aaaaaAaaaaa

When Brandon called to be picked up early, Sonya didn't immediately understand.

"Sonya. I almost killed someone. Crumpled a set of lockers into a sideways v-shape? Come get me before I get in trouble."

Sonya shifted in her seat, concerned.

"How are you calling me?"

Brandon, looking over at the fence he'd just leapt over using _**Ashes to Starlight**_ , smirked.

"Payphone. Now come get me before I get caught off of school grounds."

And Sonya did as she was told.

"You're incorrigible."

"I know."

He hung up.

Sonya hauled herself out of his armchair, grabbing her moccasins off the ground and keys from the couch.

"I swear, he drives me mad."

aaaaaAaaaaa

Sonya was surprisingly good at faking a medical emergency. And subtly threatening people.

The office's main secretary put up a fight.

"You need to prove you're his legal guardian to take him home early." Mrs. Kathleen was not a woman to be trifled with.

Sonya, however, was prepared for this very statement.

"Check with the Speedwagon Foundation. I am employed by them, and was assigned to watch Brandon after his mother died. He's a _very special boy."_ Sonya towered over the stout and diminutive Mrs. Kathleen, using her height to great affect.

"Fine. Take a seat. _**Both of you.**_ "

" _She's certainly concise,"_ Sonya thought.

Regardless to say, Sonya left five minutes later, with a delighted Brandon in tow.

aaaaaAaaaaa

They sat at the table together, quietly eating pizza. For the second day in a row, but that was fine.

They were finally in good moods.

Brandon's controlling streak had faded out, and Sonya's general grouchiness had disappeared as well.

He tried to give her a bite of his Supreme pizza at one point.

"Sorry, honey. You know the sorts of things I prefer in my mouth. Vegetables do not fit in that category."

Brandon raised an eyebrow.

"Then how do you keep your body so perfect?"

"Intense sprint training and Hamon. Hamon keeps the body young, after all."

She flexed her legs, shaking the table from the continuous vibration of her muscle fibers having Hamon poured into them.

"So that's how you have no wrinkles or creases on your face." His eyes were mischievous.

"And also how I could pop your head open with my legs if you happened to be between them."

She was evidently even more flirtatious than him.

And for the two of them, that was a perfect dynamic.

They slept together on the couch that night. And by together, I mean that they were on opposite ends of the couch, legs entangled.

It worked. Sort of.

aaaaaAaaaaa

The next day was uneventful, aside from Sonya's visit to a public gym, which she hadn't been to for a while. The foundation paid for her membership, though, so she figured she should use it.

As soon as she got on the floor to stretch, there were multiple sets of eyes on her. Male eyes.

" _Not this again. Jesus,"_ she thought, " _will I ever get a break from this shit?"_

She decided against doing yoga that day.

She just beat on a punching bag the whole time instead, honing her form. She didn't use Hamon, so her blows were only slightly above average, strength-wise for a woman of her height and weight.

The men didn't stop staring. She went home sheepish and distinctly annoyed.

" _It is indeed a man's world."_

aaaaaAaaaaa

Brandon didn't have any real problems at school.

Derek seemed to have learned his lesson, and he was about to walk outside to meet Sonya when he was accosted by two upperclassmen.

They had facial tattoos and wore bandanas.

Brandon wasn't necessarily intimidated, but he was annoyed.

"Why haven't you been paying your protection fee?" one said while Brandon moved past him.

"No need. My mom's dead, you fucking imbeciles. What are you gonna do, shoot me on school campus? Get twenty-five to life on murder one? Fuck off."

Brandon was almost out the door.

" _Come on, you're almost outside. You can take off your glove there…"_

"I can threaten the skinny bitch I seen you with."

Brandon froze in the doorway.

"If you value your internal organs, you wouldn't even _look_ bad at Sonya. I'll kill you," he said, sticking his hands out the door and unstrapping his glove and sliding it off, "and there won't even be enough of you to bury."

"Sure. Listen. Our leader has been letting you off easy because of what happened to your mother. But now that we've taken the area around your complex, we need to be paid. Now. We need two thousand, before the end of the week. If you can't pay up, we teach your bitch a lesson in how to please real men."

" _And the kiddie gloves are officially off."_

" _ **Ashes to Starlight."**_

As Brandon turned around, his Stand came out, as ordered.

" _ **YOROO!"**_

The two upperclassmen felt their heads move towards the wall very quickly. It was like a gunshot when their heads went clean through the shiny, new lockers.

Brandon left them there. One was mildly concussed and the other had a broken nose and right orbital bone along with their own concussion.

Soon enough, they'd be out for blood.

aaaaaAaaaaa

The two Stand users vented their frustrations to each other later that night. Sonya washed Brandon's back like she normally did.

She tried to get handsy and Brandon pulled away.

"Hey. I wear the swimsuit for a reason. Keep your pretty little eyes on my back." He only sounded vaguely annoyed.

"But this is the only time I really get to touch you like this," she said, brushing her fingers up his sides. He was intensely ticklish, as usual.

As Brandon fell over, he looked her in the eye in a moment that moved like slow motion.

If looks could say actual words, this look would have foretold the phrase of "Hey. Actually die."

And then the side of his head hit the water.

It was like something that could be synched to an orchestral track.

And Sonya busted out laughing, her small chest bouncing only slightly.

Love was in the air, but only after Brandon pulled her into the tub with him did things really heat up.

aaaaaAaaaaa

It only lasted a minute or so, but her lips had been just as sweet as she was.

They broke apart, both blushing.

After he regained his composure, he told her to get off of him, and she did.

 _Respect. It defined their relationship._

 _Patience defined their romance._

 _Heat defined their mutual existence._


	6. Heat

Embedded Chapter 6: Heat

On Thursday, Brandon was looking forward to seeing Sonya by the time school let out.

His hair was wet from the locker room shower, and surprisingly, the two thugs hadn't accosted him like they said they would.

" _Did they just decide to back down? Or is something…"_ Brandon thought as he walked out of the door, noticing that Sonya's car was inexplicably absent.

He flashed back to Monday.

"...a lesson on how to pleasure real men."

"Oh fuck no." His internal thought process running through twenty different scenarios at once, he determined that if they had in fact subdued her, she was probably near death or dead already.

Their home was twenty blocks away. He wouldn't make it in time unless he used… That.

Something he'd discovered when he was training with Sonya. Stands could fly, in a roundabout way.

Stand leaping, as it was haphazardly called, was dangerous at best. Sonya's _Brown Cat_ had lacked the necessary power to push her off the ground, but Brandon's Stand was perfect for it. Long appendages, an eight-meter range, and enough strength to destroy buildings meant that _**Ashes to Starlight**_ was able to cover its eight meter range in less than a tenth of a second.

Brandon didn't waste any time, dropping his backpack and deploying his Stand.

One leap later, and he was shooting towards the tallest object in his vicinity.

The school's radio tower.

He shot straight up to the middle of it.

"Oh fuuuu…!" he shouted as his eyelids were pushed even further open. His aura activated, shielding him slightly, but he clearly had to be very careful.

About forty meters up, and _**Ashes to Starlight**_ latched on, leaving deep gouges in the metal with its sharp fingertips.

Brandon adjusted his position, and fired himself like a bullet towards his street.

He used his Stand's arm to grab onto a building, and thrust himself forward.

At 100 meters a second, he shot past everything in sight, moving to the other side of the street, and pushing off again, he casually destroyed most of a deli that his mom used to eat at.

He was trying to count the blocks, and suddenly he was above a crowd in his own alley. Gang members. They had someone on a leash… And they were beating that person.

He grabbed onto the roof of his complex with _**Ashes to Starlight**_.

He loomed over all of them, and they didn't notice his presence until he shot towards them.

The woman being beaten was unrecognizable.

But her half-shaved head had black hair, and aside from the empty eye sockets from where they'd broken her face so badly, it was almost like...it was Sonya.

And with that, Brandon Carmichael snapped.

Someone heard a crash from the complex behind them, and they turned around just in time to catch the full force of _**Ashes to Starlight**_. His arm was blown clean off.

" **OH FUCK!"** the man shouted, falling over, grasping at where his arm had once been.

The gang members noticed the newcomer to the party.

The whispering was immediate. They'd heard of injuries like that happening recently, but that was restricted mostly to the enemy gang. So they had had no reason to be afraid.

The leader, bewildered, barked an order; "DON'T JUST STAND THERE! HE JUST TOOK JOSEF'S ARM OFF!"

The first one to come at him did so with a knife procured from his front right pocket.

 _ **Ashes to Starlight**_ grabbed and consequently crushed their arm to dust.

The man screamed in agony, holding his arm still at his side.

The man, apparently understanding that something was up, backed off, and was quickly shot by the leader.

The leader wasn't a good shot, however, and Brandon decided to let him play dead on the ground.

He was to be one of only two spared.

One of their own getting shot got the rest of them moving.

There were twelve of them total.

When Brandon moved forward at superhuman speeds after the car behind him crumpled, all of them froze.

One of them, a young mother of two, realized that this wasn't worth her children being orphaned, and she quickly ran away.

Running into the complex, she was later revealed to be the only one who hadn't participated in Sonya's beating.

The leader hung back as the invisible force struck one of the biggest men in the abdomen, bisecting him horizontally.

"Oh god...I'm gonna be sick," he said, falling to his knees.

Every man with bloody knuckles had his hands crushed before Brandon continued his killing.

 _ **Ashes to Starlight**_ quickly flitted around the area, crushing six of the men's hands.

Sonya was laying feebly up against a brown picket fence, most of her identifiable facial features gone. The leader, knowing that his only way out was to hold her hostage, quickly leapt towards her from where he was only ten feet away.

He held her in front of him, holding his glock to the side of her head.

He waited for Brandon to notice. But it was useless. Brandon was in no mood for mercy.

After all, all of the remaining men were within Brandon's range.

He used _**Ashes to Starlight**_ to rip the head off of one before leaping to the next, who was kneeling, waiting for the end.

He didn't spare him, but Brandon used his Stand's detailed-oriented vision and reflexes to snip the man's spinal cord where it connected to his skull.

He died painlessly.

Brandon felt a pang of respect as _**Ashes to Starlight**_ crushed one of the smaller ones against the ground, destroying most of the torso and neck.

The next one was a little closer to Brandon, and he was preparing to shoot.

When the bullet fired, Brandon called _**Ashes to Starlight**_ back and flicked the bullet right through the shooter's brain.

He barreled through the remaining eight men with straight punches to the face.

The anger in his heart was slightly satiated as they all exploded into little clouds of red mist.

The whole time, the gang leader stood back, and let his gang die.

And then Brandon turned to him.

aaaaaAaaaaa

The older man was pretty close to pissing himself as the temperature in the area started to climb. The humidity immediately dropped to less than two percent, causing the man's nose to start bleeding. He used the hand that wasn't occupied with the gun to attempt to stifle the nosebleed.

Brandon's heart turned to steel.

"I think you understand how dead you are. Put her down now, and your death will be painless."

The man paused in his attempt to stop his nose from bleeding.

"But. But I'm too young to die."

Famous last words.

With one more step forward from Brandon, he was within range.

 _ **Ashes to Starlight**_ ripped out his spine, and then throwing him two meters into the air, pummeled the almost lifeless body until the face of the gang leader was gone. Hundreds of strikes a minute meant that every bone in his body had been broken.

He felt nothing, and then Jerrick Sotherman felt the gates of hell open to swallow him whole.

The corpse hit the ground with a thud.

aaaaaAaaaaa

Looking at the carnage around him, Brandon felt intense remorse. He heard a thud against the ground.

Sonya had fallen over from where she had been sitting.

Walking around to face her, he got the first gruesome look at what they'd done to her.

Her nose had been ripped clean off, her lips had been lacerated in multiple places, her gums and teeth were all visible from where her cheeks had been torn.

Her beautiful eyes, which had once been filled with love, had been gouged out.

Brandon knew that she was dead.

He couldn't accept it.

A flash of memory slammed into him, as it drew him back to his past momentarily.

He had healed her once. He'd repaired her heart, and he didn't have half the strength he had now then. So why couldn't he go all in?

He was drawn back to the present.

She had been in her death throes about a minute prior. Her brain would still work if he could get the rest of her working again.

He deployed _**Ashes to Starlight**_ , its tunic of starlight quickly being molded into gauntlets of diamond, which shimmered with every hue possible.

He moved to be right next to her, and he laid her on her back as gently as possible. She couldn't have sustained a beating like that without also having serious skull fractures.

Two minutes had passed. People were starting to notice the car alarm from when he'd first moved towards the group.

" _SHIT!"_ he thought, using _**Ashes to Starlight**_ to clip every single piece of wiring inside the car at once. There were many holes in the car after this, a consequence of a last-ditch effort to conceal himself.

Drawing his Stand back as the car became silent, Brandon steadied himself.

As he placed one of his Stand's hands on her face, the gauntlet glowed. The flesh was instantly repaired, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

He felt a slight pull coming from somewhere deep inside himself, but he ignored it and powered through.

Her soft lips were quietly patched, her eyes firmly returned to their sockets. Her cheeks were sewn back on with an invisible needle and thread.

Her slightly upturned nose was restored from the base forward, and her crushed sinuses were re-opened.

And her skull was resealed, the membrane around her brain having been restored, and her severe swelling of the brain reversed.

Three minutes had passed since her death.

He placed the hand on her chest, and bracing his Stand's arm with its other hand, he felt an immediate drain on his strength, and he knew something important was leaving him.

He didn't care.

" _Give! Her! BACK!"_

His thoughts turned to nothingness as he thought he felt a heartbeat underneath his Stand's hand.

But who could be sure...


	7. Interrogation

Embedded

Chapter 7: Interrogation

Brandon did feel a heartbeat. And within the span of the next few minutes, he used _**Ashes to Starlight**_ to carry her back to the complex, completely toning down the heat his Stand produced.

He walked past a young woman, who was curled up in the fetal position on the ground.

He paid her no mind, despite knowing who she was.

They were inside, and the gang members had definitely...left a mess. There were bodily fluids all over the couch, and Brandon flinched at the sight of it. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"That definitely needs to be burned," Brandon said out loud, putting Sonya down on his mostly untouched armchair, "but that's something for later."

He looked at her. She was beautiful, and caring, and the most amazing woman he would ever know. Despite her problems with anxiety, he couldn't see a single reason why any reasonable person would have done anything like this to such a kind-hearted young woman.

He felt the hate in his soul grow.

It was good that all of them were dead; he wouldn't have been so merciful if he'd knew then what he knew now.

They hadn't sacked his mother's room, as there had been many locks on it even before her death. Brandon had wanted it to stay the way she left it.

He rooted around the messy apartment, finally finding her purse within the debris.

Mr. Joestar's card was in her wallet, which had been looted of basically everything else.

He called 911, requesting help for Sonya, and for the personnel to come through the front. Considering since there was a literal massacre out back in the alley, it was a smart move on Brandon's part.

Immediately afterward, he called Mr. Joestar and told him what happened.

"Mr. Joestar. This is Brandon. Sonya was assaulted and beaten severely by gang members. She was then taken hostage. I got her back, but I was forced to kill all of them before I could retrieve her. My Stand's ability to heal has left me significantly fatigued, but otherwise I'm fine. Please send Speedwagon Foundation personnel to cover this mess up. It's...bad."

Joseph Joestar, who until this point had been silent, responded simply.

"They're on their way. Stay put. And do not interact with any police."

He hung up. Brandon went to the supply closet, gathering the cleaning supplies for the job ahead.

aaaaaAaaaaa

After the paramedics came to collect Sonya to make sure she was okay, Brandon set about...sanitizing the couch. It was leather, so it could be cleaned. In theory.

And you know what?

Brandon interacted with police. Like a fucking idiot.

His clothes were covered in blood when he answered the door.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, having nothing to say. The cop just gave him the most confused expression, which quickly changed to one of absolute horror and disgust.

When he tried to close the door, the cop put his foot in the bottom of the doorframe.

"Excuse me? You're covered in blood, and there was a violent shooting and multiple murders out back in the alley. The fact that you're covered in blood is good enough to bring you in."

The cop shoved his way in. Brandon was flung back by the policeman's superior mass.

He slammed his neck into one of the hall's corners, almost knocking him unconscious.

And then Brandon's Stand deployed. Full power, of course, with the temperature in the room immediately jumping to 132 degrees Fahrenheit.

"Bad idea," Brandon mumbled as _**Ashes to Starlight**_ cocked its fist back.

But when the intense Stand blow was fired forward, it was abruptly stopped by another Stand. Purple vines, which were crackling with raw energy.

Hermit Purple.

" _Damn it. The old man got here fast."_

"Now, let's try to be civil about this, officer. You are...dismissed. I own the entire infrastructure of this city, and it's all going down for the rest of the evening if you don't see yourself out."

The policeman saw his way out.

"Mr. Joestar?" Brandon said, recalling _**Ashes to Starlight.**_

"In the _fucking_ flesh. Good to see you...alive, Brandon. I just happened to be at the Central American main base for the Foundation, and your call was automatically diverted to my office here, where my secretary passed the call in to my room. In short, you were lucky. Now, why don't we, say, change the venue? I do believe your...caretaker is being transferred to Houston General as we speak. Why don't we join her? Get out of this mess."

"Fine. But I obviously need to get out of these clothes. And run them through the wash." Brandon was sheepish and ashamed of his actions, but he knew that to keep his way of life, he needed to rid himself of the evidence.

"There is no need for that. Place the clothes in a grocery bag, and I'll have my team dispose of them for you."

Brandon went back to his room, where he found yet more bodily fluids on his bed, to his complete annoyance.

His dresser was fine, having been completely untouched. He got dressed, and brought the dirty clothes back out with him.

"And don't worry about the furniture. The same team that worked on it after the fire will be in here, removing evidence and sanitizing everything. Thoroughly, might I add."

They quickly exited the building through the front after Brandon shoved the bloody clothes in a grocery bag, just as he'd been asked to do.

Getting into Mr. Joestar's personal 1977 Chevette, Brandon noted the level of customization that had been applied to the car.

It's black exterior had purple vines painted on down the sides instead of the standard pinstriping.

"That's a very cheeky paint job, sir," he said, pushing politely past a member of the Foundation.

"You like it?" Mr. Joestar joked, quirking an eyebrow.

Brandon just rolled his eyes as he got in, secretly envious of the man that had it all.

aaaaaAaaaaa

As they crossed the city, whenever they passed another car, Brandon watched the reflection of their own car.

The painted vines moved whenever they passed another vehicle.

" _Absolutely crazy. I couldn't even start to figure out how that works,"_ Brandon thought, awestruck.

aaaaaAaaaaa

When Sonya's rape kit was done, her attending discharged her on her own recognizance.

She was...rattled.

She was silent as she went back into the apartment after the ride back.

She had to gather some of her things, as they would be staying in a hotel while everything was being...fixed.

She had to keep her eyes on the floor. It was the only thing that didn't have her blood or...their fluids on it.

Her shame was overwhelming as she walked back out.

And when she saw Brandon in the light of the hotel lobby with his stuff already, she was confused. He looked...older.

Not size wise, but his face had slight age lines on it. And his hair was...greying slightly?

He was still Brandon, but something about him lit up her insides.

He didn't just look like a little boy anymore. He was still shorter than her, but he'd do.

The shivers spread from her neck down to the rest of her body.

She felt warmer than usual as they were checked in by Mr. Joestar. With him being the bro that he always was, he booked a room with one, count them, one, king size bed. The Presidential suite.

They settled in at the conference table in the namesake room in the suite.

It was situated off to the left of the main suite, near the first bathroom.

It was there that the interrogation took place.

aaaaaAaaaaa

"They...gang-raped me. And then they beat me and gouged my eyes out. Please. Don't make me talk about this anymore, Mr. Joestar."

aaaaaAaaaaa

"And then what did you do when you arrived on the scene, Brandon?"

"I immediately took one of the arms of the one that was currently beating her. Ripped it clean off. The leader responded, telling them to get me. I subsequently waited patiently for them to enter my range, and picked them off one by one, using various methods. I let two live. One was shot by the leader in the arm. I let him live. And a young woman that fled after I took the man's arm off is currently still alive."

"Thank you for the information, Brandon. What did you do to the leader, again?"

"I ripped his face off, partially tore out his spine, and beat him to death with _**Ashes to Starlight**_ , which is my Stand," Brandon said, deploying said Stand so Mr. Joestar could get a better look at it.

"He is certainly an interesting looking one. Now. In reference to his healing abilities, using them seems to have taken off some of your lifespan. I'd suggest looking at a mirror after this. I would recommend not using your Stand's healing abilities ever again. You could, in theory, kill yourself. And I know about you and Sonya, and I'm letting it slide because I know that it'll all be fine in less than a month. So don't be selfish. Keep yourself alive, if only for Sonya."

aaaaaAaaaaa

Later that night, Brandon did examine himself in the mirror. He approximated that he'd lost about ten to fifteen years of his life. He looked almost certainly older than Sonya, now.

And he felt old. Even getting into bed next to the love of his life, he felt fatigued. And exhausted.

And just overall like he had lost something precious.

And indeed, he had.

He'd sacrificed the remainder of his youth for her immortal soul.

"Pretty fair trade," he whispered, slipping into a deep sleep.

aaaaaAaaaaa

Sonya couldn't sleep.

She loved sleeping in the same bed as Brandon, especially now that… he was so hot.

But she couldn't calm herself.

Dr. Huang, a FBI agent and psychologist specializing in sex crimes, had noted that she would likely have PTSD from her rapes.

And she did, even through the most soothing hot shower. She couldn't rid her body of the feelings they'd forced her through.

They had taken her sanity. She could feel it as the edges of her vision started to crack.

The one thing Brandon couldn't have healed was her mind.

Author's note: Please review if you've read this far. It would really help me figure out if this is any good.


	8. Fatigue

Chapter 8: Fatigue

A less than familiar scene flowed through Brandon's sub-conscious, his unrestful dreams being twisted in ways he hadn't experienced in a long time. The world he found himself in felt darker and colder in a way that he couldn't understand. And as his vision grew to match what he could hear, he understood why he felt so numb. It was starting to rain, and it felt like he'd been stabbed, even through the numbness.

Sonya, the love of his life, laid on the pavement there, at his feet. Brandon tried to move as he saw what was wrong. Her skin was pale, and she was clutching her belly, which was pouring out blood. Her thin frame shook with the beginnings of death. The soft drizzle began to transform into a downpour as Brandon's control over his emotions grew weaker by the second.

Her breaths grew more pained and laborious by the second. Sonya lay, shivering at his feet. The rain swept over her like nothing else, chilling her to the core. The hole in her abdomen gushed blood in sync with her ever-slowing heartbeat.

Brandon looked on in shock; what was playing out in this bizarre reality was almost too much for his mind to process. Her brown eyes started to dilate even as she panicked. Their usual, mellow striations were sharp, and focused through her fear.

She whispered frantically; "The baby."

Brandon was jolted out of his dream, firmly placed in reality. He was, to be frank, disturbed. The whispering air vents above the bed calmed him, reassured him of this reality. His eyes hurt; he blinked once, twice, and once again. The hundreds of pin-pricks in his right hand told him that he'd been sleeping on it again, and he adjusted himself so he wouldn't be on top of it anymore. He felt worn, like a pair of old, mis-matched shoes.

He didn't know what to think, trying to hold the dream in his mind's eye, and yet it was slipping out of his hands. His rustling of the sheets had Sonya coming out of her state of unrest. Her nightmares had her fidgeting and whimpering; until his dying day, his witching hour, he would remember what her whimpering sounded like. It sounded like she was trying to scream.

"Damn," he whispered. He hadn't meant to wake her up. It felt like he had been asleep for a long time, and he didn't know how to talk to her. Not anymore. They hadn't spoken, nor touched since he had sacrificed his youth. Saving her.

And that had disturbed him in its own way. He had lost **years.** He couldn't get them back, and despite who he was with, and how much he loved her, he couldn't hold himself together.

Brandon Carmichael wept for what he had lost. And as the tears started and he sobbed not altogether quietly, Sonya awoke from her nightmare, her back to him. Her chest rose and fell quickly, for laying down and being still. The nightmare was terrible, if short. Her eyes stung, and she pulled a hair out of her mouth.

She felt her body, up and down. Brandon had restored it completely. Even what they'd done to ruin her, she felt it was...intact. Her mind, however, was not. And she couldn't shake the thoughts, of what they had done to her. Her eyes shivered in their sockets, almost as though they remembered the pain of being gouged out. Her nose twitched, the feeling of being broken and ripped off flashing through her mind. She, too, started to break down.

Neither of the two even noticed the other's plight. Even next to each other, they were alone. Truly alone. Brandon knew she was awake, next to him. But he couldn't bring himself to turn around. He couldn't face her. Not anymore.

It seemed as though the years Brandon had sacrificed were more than what they seemed.


	9. Reconcile

Embedded: Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Reconcile

The night had long since been swept up and away by the sun's rising. The pair, tired as they were, had gotten up separately, with Sonya arriving at the kitchenette first, putting on a pot of coffee. The smell of the Sumatran blend set her nerves at ease. But not enough.

And as Brandon stepped into the room, the sun shone through the windows, illuminating his face obliquely. The sounds of his feet on the floor crashed into her ears, the silence of the world around her suddenly interrupted.

Brandon pulled the chair across from her out, the legs squealing against the hardwood floor. The dust on it scattered as he sat down, the motes floating aloft in the air. His eyes examined her, and it became apparent to him that she was...afraid.

Sonya looked uncomfortable, as though she didn't understand who was sitting across from her. The sunlight crossed her face with its auburn hues, illuminating her brown eyes. They looked weary. Of him, and Brandon didn't understand why. As he tried to count the freckles across her cheeks, she turned away slightly.

Brandon looked to the window, from where the light was entering the suite. A flock of birds was passing by, relishing the lukewarm November in Texas. He envied them, and their freedom.

 _"Here I am, still here on the ground."_ His thoughts morose, his eyes were directed back at Sonya. She was watching him, as well, and as his eyes became tearful, he stood from his spot, bristling.

The shadows under his eyes confused Sonya, as she felt an uncomfortable warmth settle throughout the room. The space between her thighs suddenly became sweaty, as did her palms and chest, the beads slowly forming.

The gears started grinding in Sonya's head.

 _"That's...unlike him. Especially around me. What is going on inside his head?"_ She pushed her own seat out and back as he started to walk away.

Brandon stalked off, and the heat followed him, his apparent anger fueling it.

He was in the hallway leading to the bedroom by the time she caught up. The hand she placed on his shoulder jolted him out of the trance he seemed to be in.

Brandon turned his head and body around to face Sonya, his eyes indifferent, the slight wrinkles around them further adding to her discomfort.

"What is wrong?" Her courage had bubbled up, her feelings for him swelling as she saw his face change into a chuckle, before he leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder.

They stand that way for a moment that feels like an eternity, before Brandon backed away for a moment, the tears in his eyes visible even in the lowlights of the hallway.

"I can't communicate. And I don't know if I'm good enough anymore. I can see it in your eyes, Sonya. You're different. I just...don't know how." He couldn't keep her gaze, looking away before she could respond. A tear fell; from his chin, to the floor. The frustration was painted in his voice, the colors of red and gray streaking through his words.

Sonya can hardly fathom what they've come to, standing in this hallway. "I'm sorry." Her voice is genuine, and her eyes downcast, body language deferential.

It's almost as though she's struck Brandon across the face, blinking away tears. He steps forward, his hand slipping around her waist and pulling her into a tight embrace.

The shock on Sonya's face is obvious.

"I don't know what you have to be sorry for. I love you. You don't have to apologize. You're still here. I can feel your heartbeat, next to mine. Don't apologize. Just stay." Brandon didn't have a penchant for crying, but in this moment, he had realized what he had to lose.

And that was everything. This was his person. Forever. She held him just as tight as he held her.

Brandon dug his face into her shoulder, a hand running through her hair. She smelled of lavender and ginseng, the mellow scents filling his nose. Her hair felt like silk as he ran his left hand through it.

Sonya just cried into his shoulder, the love in their hearts met at a draw.

A good cry, her mother always said, could fix the worst of many problems.

And as she pulled away, she saw through Brandon's tears and into his heart.

He wasn't in pain anymore.

xEx

Joseph Joestar turned the key into the lock, his intention to inform the two of their impending transfer.

He entered the room as he intended, his footsteps heavy on floor, before a door to his right opened. The bathroom. Brandon stepped out, dressed only in boxers. Behind him, wrapped in a towel and naught else, was Sonya. Joseph did his best to not blush as Brandon closed the door, raising his left eyebrow.

"You have news?" Brandon was certainly to the point, if annoyed.

"The two of you will be able to return to your home by Christmas time. I just came to let you know. I'll...see my way out," Joseph said, hesitantly. The boy was stronger than he was, almost to an absurd extent. Even his grandson might have a hard time battling Brandon.

But they'd never know, would they?

"Have a good day, Mr. Joestar."

"And you too, Brandon."

As Mr. Joestar finally exited the room, Brandon returned to the bathroom, where Sonya awaited his return on bated breath.

"Took you long enough," she said as he opened the door. The mist parted to reveal a most appealing sight.

xEx

Brandon stood at the bathroom mirror, his thoughts cluttered with images of Sonya's perfect body underneath his hands.

It had been pleasant, washing someone else. A bit different than he'd been expecting. There was a lot more hair than he'd been expecting, that's for **damn** sure.

The softness of her skin and the soap bubbles had felt like a slippery sort of heaven under his fingers. Her body was a vision of perfection, and as he remembered how she'd washed him, he blushed.

"Hey there, stranger."

He was startled out of his reverie as he looked towards the door. Sonya had her hair down, her bathrobe being not only open at the chest, but also incredibly, insufficiently short. All 115 cm of her legs were on display, and so...were part of her hips.

The junction between them was blessedly hidden in shadow, but Brandon could hardly avert his gaze. But he did.

And so the tigress stalked ever closer. "What, Brandon? You've seen all of it already, haven't you? Or is it just my legs," she said, putting one leg partially up on the counter next to him, "that turn you on?"

He blushed even harder.

"That's not even fair. You know, one might even think you're _trying_ to turn me on. Or would that," he intoned, turning towards her, "be correct?"

He grabbed the leg on the counter behind the knee, pulling her closer.

She leaned down slightly, whispering in his ear.

"Maybe."

He reached around her, grabbing at her butt.

"Then, maybe, we should take this conversation to the bedroom," he said, releasing her to walk back to their room.

She conceded his point with a shrug and a peck on the lips. "After me? How polite," she remarked as he sarcastically held the door.

She got a swat on the ass for that one.

"You, for the record, are going to regret that later," she said, between laughs.

They joked the whole way to the bedroom, poking fun at each other as they all but raced across the hardwood floor.

Author's note:

Happy New Year, everyone

-Alexander, aka MeridianPine


End file.
